


After Midnight

by DapperSheep



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Semi-Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29256012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DapperSheep/pseuds/DapperSheep
Summary: To fall in love with the prince is the dream of any princess. To be swept away from their unkind fate into a happy ending even moreso. Such are the ideals of rose-colored fairytales, but do all princesses desire to be drowned in such delusions?Set during the timeline of the Croissant Wonderland event.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

_Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop..._

  
  


The evening scenery passed by in a blur, unheeded by Spaghetti who sat alone in the carriage hurrying along to its destination. His thoughts were elsewhere in that moment, replaying the events that led up to his current predicament.

He had expressed his utter rejection of taking the place of the young man he made this deal for, but his so-called “fairy godmother” had other plans. After being threatened with a second “punishment”, he had to grudgingly give in— if only to get rid of the fairy man once and for all and to avoid any more humiliation to his person. It was a small, merciful reprieve that there hadn’t been another servant in the courtyard to witness that.

Perhaps if he had been more specific about the conditions of their contract… No, there was little sense in wondering if things could have gone a little more different. He had been foolish to think that everything could go as he’d hoped, and now he has to “pay” for his shortsightedness.

The carriage abruptly came to a halt and he caught himself before he could be flung from his seat. Not a moment later, the door opened and he immediately glared at the man hovering there with his wings blocking out the light.

“You have arrived at the ball.”

The monotone grated on his nerves, bringing up a plethora of emotions to the surface. The winged man fluttered by the pumpkin carriage, watching Spaghetti step out and alight onto the cobblestone pavement leading to the grand staircase into the castle.

It was already the tenth hour though royal balls tend to go past midnight. Spaghetti glumly mused that it was likely he would be here a while to satisfy the agreement he made with the fairies.

If only...

“Remind me, _godmother_ ,” he began with a scathing underbite to his tone. “If I had to spend a dreary some hours in this ball I have no wish to attend—”

He spread his arms to the side as if to draw attention to the dress he wore, and the ginger wig that sat on his head daintily curled at the tips.

“Why must I wear a dress?!”

He’d put his foot down at the glass slippers. The moment he saw them conjured onto his feet, he immediately protested against dancing in _those._ Thankfully his fairy godmother saw the lack of logic in that, and instead conjured for him a more comfortable and elegant pair of heeled shoes. It still did not please Spaghetti, but he kept his words to himself.

“The Fairy Godmother Apprentice Rulebook subsection sixteen states: ‘Seek other ways to fulfill the contract should a straightforward solution not be possible.’ If the princess does not wish to dance with a man, perhaps she will dance with a woman,” he answered mechanically— though not without a hint of exasperation.

“And that was the conclusion you came to for why you chose this?!”

“Affirmative.”

“You would have put my… the young man I made this deal for, in this if it had been him, as well?”

“Most likely.”

“ _Most_ likely?”

The ashen blonde fairy looked unfazed by the sharp tone as he fluttered by the carriage door. “It would depend on a number of factors if a suit or a dress is more suitable. In your case, attending the ball in a dress has the best compatibility and probability to achieve the best outcome. It is also important to note the time of your arr—”

Spaghetti raised a hand to silence him. “How would you know that she wouldn’t choose a man?”

His fairy godmother tilted his head, seemingly thinking over the question. “All eligible men have gathered here tonight. If she were to reject all of them, you would be in the one percent with a chance to succeed.”

_That still didn’t answer my question_. But he thought it was no use. The longer he stood out here arguing, the longer he would look like this. And he wanted so badly to return to the mansion and…

_“You’re going down a dark path.”_

Well, he wasn’t wrong. But he also couldn’t even stand another moment looking at the man responsible for this disaster waiting to happen.

Spaghetti looked up at the majestic castle just beyond the grand staircase, beautifully decorated with flowers and fancy adornments for the occasion. His heart did not stir at all with excitement, rather it clenched with growing bitterness at the absurdity of all this.

Fulfill the oath. All he needed to do was dance with the princess—or attempt to do so—and it will be done. How hard could that possibly be?

He breathed in and picked up his skirt, then began climbing the steps.

The interior of the ballroom was easily grander than what the castle had initially teased. Several of the manor’s courtyards could easily fit side by side in just the ballroom alone. There was a cacophony of noise—the orchestra was in a corner playing an upbeat waltz, there were sounds of tinkling silverware, and there was murmuring gossip mixed with a steady buzz of male voices.

From the entrance of the grand ballroom, he could see the thick ring of bachelors surrounding the dais where the king and his sister, the princess, stood. Truthfully, he’s never seen the royal family in person, only hearing of them in passing from the gossip of the townsfolk and the other servants of the manor.

The king seemed to be talking heatedly with a dark-haired fellow, while the princess stood with her arms crossed and a shield her height at her side. Her stance told Spaghetti she wanted nothing to do with this ball.

_That already makes this all the more difficult_ , he thought.

His entrance had gone mostly unnoticed, earning only a few stares from those who stood far from the center of the growing crowd. Some courtesans, footmen, several companions of the guests—all of them nothing to his eyes. He didn’t even bother to check if those murderous brats and their father were close by.

The crowd of suitors around the princess seemed to thicken—and with her short stature, it was near impossible for Spaghetti to spot her. He heard the steadily-rising voices, all of them in an effort to talk over one another as they clamored hopefully for a chance to be the princess’ first.

**_CLANG! CRACK!_ **

The sudden noise did two things. The guests immediately scrambled away from the princess and her shield—now embedded solidly into the marble floor—and Spaghetti paused in surprise as he was a few feet away from the crowd.

“That’s it! Who wants some!?” the princess exclaimed in the suddenly-silent ballroom.

“Gingerbread!”

“I told you I don’t want to dance with these idiots!”

“Red Wine, something tells me Gingerbread isn’t marriage materi—Ow!”

As Spaghetti recovered from the initial shock, he picked up his skirt and hurriedly made his way to the back of the crowd, suddenly intrigued by the whole turn of events.

A short banter between the trio up front happened before the dark-haired fellow was the one who stepped forward towards the princess. “Gingerbread, you’re still going to need to dance this dance,” he spoke in a placating tone. Spaghetti watched as he leaned to speak to her in a lower voice, speaking words that seem to make her scowl in a resigned way.

“What’s going on?” A curious girl beside him asked as she leaned up on her tiptoes, hoping to peer over the shoulders of the men in front of her.

“I don’t know,” he replied almost without thought. His attention was focused on the princess surveying the crowd with a bored, almost palpably-desperate glower on her face. Spaghetti could, at that moment, feel a sense of kindred spirit with her—they both wanted nothing to do with this “celebration” and just wanted to be done with it.

The princess then turned her eyes towards him—and it was like watching the morning sun rise high above the night’s veil. There was confusion on her face for a moment, and then recognition that Spaghetti did not feel in turn as he watched the princess step off the dais and began briskly walking in his direction.

The crowd parted for her like dead leaves pushed by the wind. He scrambled for the words to say as the distance closed between them, but he didn’t need to once his mind registered her standing in front of the girl who had been beside him moments ago.

“Cheese! You came!”

“Gingerbread! I finally found you!”

At that moment, he knew he had already lost. The scene unfolded before him, half unaware of the orchestra starting up again by a reluctant command from the king.

He sunk into the crowd gathered at the sides of the dance floor, watching the two ladies dance and share a laugh from hushed words spoken between them.

Seeing them did not stir anything in him. Though it still gnawed at him that it meant he wouldn’t be able to get that dance. He could insist but he neither had a death wish nor did he want to be rude—all for a chance to fulfill whatever the fairies had interpreted from their deal. This was not a happiness he wanted to intrude upon or sully.

For the first time since he arrived, Spaghetti took in everything around him. The people, the noise, the rising unease of feeling out of place... Not because he was crossdressing in the midst of so many people, but rather a general feeling that he shouldn’t be here.

_It was never for me._

In his peripheral, he thought he saw the faces of the young masters of the house. When he turned to see, it was nothing but two strangers with the barest resemblance to them. The feeling of unease kept growing in him, along with the sense that he was wasting precious time in a place that no longer held any meaning for him.

_I did it all for someone who deserved to be happy for once._

_But he’s dead._

Fury simmered in him as he had never felt it before, yet he reigned in the emotion before it could bubble over.

He wasn’t going to get vengeance now. But he will make them rue the day they took away a precious life. His Master Attendant had been nothing but kind and selfless and this was how they repaid him?

—Master Attendant?

“Ngh…” A hand came up to his head as a sharp pain lanced through him. A stuttery voice full of pain rang in his ears, but he could not make out the words.

The pain lasted briefly, and he shook himself from it and back to the present. The voice faded into the _adagio tempo_ of the strings and flutes, and the lulling pitch of the guests’ voices around him.

_If this is how the world truly is, then it’s only fitting to return the favor._

There was nothing else for him here, so he decided he would simply leave and take time to gather his thoughts. Revenge, after all, was best served cold.

He silently made his way out of the grand ballroom, back out the way he came before a familiar figure stopped him in the corridor outside.

“You did not dance.” His fairy godmother stated as he hovered in front of him.

“I attended the ball. Is that not enough?” he said with as much disdain as he can put into his words.

“Negative. You are only halfway on progression, you must complete the agreement and—”

“Godmother, if you had eyes, you would have seen that the princess is already dancing with another,” Spaghetti nearly spat out, gripping fistfuls of his skirt in an attempt to reign in his temper. “I’m not as foolish as to think that I would be able to seize a chance with her and make her agree.”

That gave the other pause. Spaghetti watched as the other’s visible brow furrowed, his arms crossed as he seemed to think. “You cannot renege on the deal. We cannot accept it and, neither can we return to you what you have claimed for us. As a footnote, I do not have the authority to overwrite the contract.” In a rare moment, the fairy godmother slumped his shoulders, looking vaguely at a loss. Not that Spaghetti could feel any sort of sympathy after what he’d done to him back at the manor.

“Lie to your superiors, then.”

“That is not how we Fae function. You have done us a great service, and we seek to fulfill repayment in full and to satisfy the criteria of the deal.” Another pause. “A suggestion. Perhaps if you asked for the king’s hand—”

“That is out of the question.” His first and only impression of the king was that he’d sooner cut his own tongue out before he’d dance with that graceless numbskull.

So it seemed they have come to an impasse.

Spaghetti wanted to return to the manor, and his fairy godmother wanted him to complete his end of the deal. The situation at hand was not ideal for either of them and Spaghetti realized it would come down to force.

Reckless? Perhaps. But he was tired of not being given a choice to do as he wished and being someone’s helpless amusement. So if he were to raise his weapon against the fairy—

“You’re floating! That’s so cool!!”

The awed exclamation so close to them made Spaghetti jerk his head towards the source. A blonde young man stood there, eyes shining like stars at his fairy godmother like it was the first time he’d seen such a creature. At the back of his head, a tiny voice told him that probably wasn’t far from the truth.

Beside that blonde, his companion placed a hand on his shoulder. “Pizza, it’s rude to stare.”

“But Cassata, I’ve never seen someone like that. We don’t have flying people back home.” The first one pouted, pointing at the fairy. Cassata only seemed to look more embarrassed. Belatedly, Spaghetti noticed that those twitching ears of his weren’t just for decoration.

“Sorry, he gets excited easily.”

“I can see that,” Spaghetti said blandly. “If you two are finished gawking, I will be taking my leave.”

And immediately, his godmother moved to block his path.

“Negative. You cannot leave until you’ve accomplished your dance.”

_This again._ Spaghetti pursed his lips. “Let it go. I will have other chances to socialize with royalty, but not tonight,” he said.

“This is the only time you would have this chance.”

“You have no idea the words I wish to describe your terrible performance as my so-called fairy godmother!”

“Unleashing them will only earn you punishment as befitting your increasing misbehavior.” his fairy godmother countered smoothly.

Now that was uncalled for. “You wouldn’t dare—!”

“Uhm…! Sorry to butt in here...” Pizza started, immediately getting both of their attention. Truth be told, Spaghetti almost forgot they were still there.

“What do you want?” he said gratingly.

His tone made the blonde flinch. “Oh, well, I just… do you need help? You look like you need it?” It was spoken in such a hesitant manner, but with enough sincerity behind it that Spaghetti found himself chuckling at the outlandish idea that _someone_ was offering him help.

Spaghetti was feeling particularly peevish though, so he flung a hand in the direction of his fairy godmother and said, “If you can talk some sense into this stubborn fool, then by all means. I would be glad to be rid of him.”

“I—”

“What? Are you perhaps changing your mind?”

“—Could you excuse us a moment?” The fox-eared man interjected, throwing Spaghetti and his godmother a too polite smile as he was already half dragging his companion out of earshot.

Spaghetti didn’t bother eavesdropping, instead settling to watch their gestures and body language as they talked in lowered voices. At least, the fox one was. Cassata, wasn’t it? That one had a better grasp of the atmosphere and was less altruistic.

Good. One couldn’t go around being so selflessly kind in this world of terrible people. It would be unfortunate if that blonde went the way of his now late companion and friend.

“You should let them help you.”

Spaghetti cast a sideglance at the fairy. He had his visible eye on the redhead, observing him in that manner Spaghetti found intrusive. “I’m surprised you’re actually suggesting that,” Spaghetti replied wryly. “I pegged you as the type to insist I should be doing this on my own with only your relentless, asinine assistance.”

His fairy godmother gave him a strange look, one that he hasn’t seen before and couldn’t read.

“You are not suited to being left alone. Pain corrupts and clouds judgment.” Spaghetti didn’t like the uneasy feeling that stemmed from those cryptic words.

“Stop pretending that you know anything about me. You know nothing about pain.” He did not see the way the single eye narrowed at him, his attention diverted back to the two approaching them. Suffice to say, Cassata looked like he reluctantly lost a fight.

“If we help him, would you be willing to help us with something?” The fox-eared man asked.

“Cassata needs his curse undone!” Pizza excitedly exclaimed shortly after, earning him a sigh from his friend.

“A curse?” The fairy cocked his head. “I am under obligation to complete my current mission, so I cannot help you. However the other Fae may be able to listen to your plight and extend an agreement. I can take you to them, should you be willing to wait.”

“That’s fine. As long as we can find something about it. We’ll probably be busy finding our friend anyway until you get back to us.” Cassata glanced at Spaghetti, “So what’s his deal?” 

“My charge needs to attend the ball and dance with the princess in order to fulfill the contract he made in agreement with the Fae.” Spaghetti’s godmother answered without missing a beat.

“What if he can’t do that?”

“Then another member of royalty may substitute for the princess. The contract has specified attending the ball and interacting with royalty—”

“And this fool interpreted it as _only_ dancing with the aforementioned.” Spaghetti finished with a haughty tone directed at the other. The fairy didn’t seem fazed.

Pizza and Cassata looked at each other, then back at the two.

“I’m a prince.” The blonde pointed to himself.

“Funny, I would have mistaken you for a jester.” Spaghetti drawled, narrowing his eyes with an unimpressed scowl.

Pizza pouted. “Hey.”

“... It is stretching the logic, however I do not think it matters if it is royalty from this land or another. So long as they are.” The fairy stated, unblinking. “There is a ninety-percent chance it would satisfy the requirements of the contract even with the adjustments.”

“Wait a moment! Why are you making decisions for me? I do not recall giving _you_ that authority.” Spaghetti protested.

“The Fairy Godmother Apprentice Rulebook subsection twenty-five states: In support—”

Spaghetti raised his hand again to silence him immediately, his other hand rubbing his temple. “Just... stop. Enough of that prattle.”

“You also want this to be done with, do you not?” The fairy godmother asked. The redhead scowled at him, and the fairy took that as an answer. “Then I do not see the problem with this arrangement.”

Spaghetti felt then and there that he wanted to chuck his weapon at the creature he was very sure was laughing inside at his plight.

“So it’s that easy right? If that’s all, then I can give her a dance!”

“I am a _man_!” Spaghetti vehemently corrected. His voice may not be as deep as a full-grown adult’s but it was certainly in no range of a woman’s! It seemed that the blonde was either dense or poor on the uptake. Probably both.

Cassata stifled a chuckle. “Then why are you dressed like that?” That immediately got him a glare as an answer and he quickly raised his hands up in surrender.

The blonde prince peered at Spaghetti quizzically. “Eh? Oh, you do sound like a man. I’m sorry for the mix-up! But… that’s a nice dress? I mean, I’ve met some strong women before with deep voices so I didn’t want to assume. It’s a really nice dress though! On you, I mean.”

_This guy…_ Cassata and Spaghetti thought with varying shades of disbelief and bewilderment.

Spaghetti bit his lip. On one hand, it would mean all of this is done and he can return to his life before the fairy derailed him. On the other…. Would he want to be helped by a complete stranger? At the least, the Fae had viewed it as an exchange of services, he couldn’t fault them for that simple concept. It was only unfortunate that things had turned for the worst when he had been away for only a few short days.

But looking at Pizza, looking at that hopeful, curious expression on his face made his insides churn. There was something in him that growled and nipped at the thought of placing himself in another’s hands, especially someone he did not know.

_You can only rely on yourself. Trusting others… trusting the goodness of others…. That’s what got […] killed in the first place._

_All because they simply wanted_ **_you_ ** _instead._

Yet part of him argued that it was only for this moment. This one, insignificant moment in time he simply had to endure. It wasn’t as if his godmother would allow him to walk into an unforeseen trap, nor did the blonde before him look like he could carry out falsities as if it were as easy as breathing. His lack of tact was just too sincere for that to ever be true.

It was only a dance, nothing more and nothing less. 

“Fine… just— fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

The blonde bounced on his heels, flashing him a little smile. “I can’t just keep calling you ‘Mister’, you don’t look that old. So I want to know your name!”

Spaghetti opened his mouth, then closed it, feeling a moment of hesitation grip him. Why would he feel nervous about sharing his name? After all, he would lose nothing but a shred of his dignity. If that was a small price to pay to get all this over and done with, so be it.

“You may call me Spaghetti.”

The redhead watched as Pizza’s expression brightened a notch. “Oh! Spaghetti… It sounds really nice.” he said, his smile becoming strangely warmer. “You know my name but lemme just re-introduce myself. I’m Pizza, and my friend over there is Cassata.”

“Pleasure.” He replied blandly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his fairy godmother sighing. Spaghetti chose to ignore that and focused on Pizza bowing at his waist and extending a hand out at him.

Nothing but a sincere smile and eyes shining with innocent mirth.

“So, Spaghetti, may I have this dance with you?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bell tolls twelve. The magic fades, and the dawn will surely come, frightening away the last vestiges of the illusions that thrive in the night. Cinderella wakes from her dream, finding that she had returned to the reality she chose for herself. It was a cold comfort.

Out on the veranda leading to the castle’s gardens, the music sounded far away but not so much that they couldn’t recognize the cadence of the notes.

Spaghetti found it strange to be dancing to a muffled orchestra. But his partner didn’t seem perturbed at all. There were no strangers to bear witness to this, their only audience were Cassata and Spaghetti’s fairy godmother standing in their peripheral a respectful distance away.

Pizza had this little smile that seemed permanently etched on his face, soft humming coming from those lips in an attempt to imitate the tune of the waltz playing in the ballroom. It was not a slow waltz meant for lovers to whisper sweet nothings in the small space between their lips, rather the tempo sung of a rhythm meant for measured but spirited steps, a quiet challenge for its dancers to focus more on itself rather than burning gazes into their chosen partners.

Spaghetti took the role of the female in the dance, not that he had much of a choice. He was the one in the dress and he had some knowledge of how to play the part.

_One, two, three. One, two, three._

He was stiff and reluctant at the start. But as they progressed without incident, Spaghetti allowed himself to relax.

_One, two, three. One, two, three._

This time, Pizza remembered to let him go. He turned and spun, his skirt twirling gracefully around him, then he was back with his hand on Pizza’s shoulder again.

“Hey uhm, can I ask you something, Spaghetti?”

“Hm?”

“You look kind of distracted.”  
  
“Do I?” He replied in a politely flat tone. _Ah, was I that obvious?_ “Perhaps I’m trying to tune out this memory so I don’t remember it too vividly in the future.”

“Aw, so you’re not at least taking some fun out of this?” The blonde looked more curious than offended.

“I don’t see how being manhandled into a dress and forced to dance would be considered fun.” Spaghetti grumbled, his noble air making itself known briefly. Pizza couldn’t help himself and laughed. It was light and sounded amused by the redhead’s reply.

“Right right, I understand! I remember I had to wear a dress one time. Not sure why I had to, but it was really embarrassing. Maybe it was because Cheese and Cassata were laughing at me then.”

“Hm, with the way you look, you would easily pass for a very unladylike young woman.” Spaghetti couldn’t help smirking at the whine from the blonde prince. He couldn’t pass up a little tease as well. “Perhaps if you were good at the act, you’d have me fooled.”

“Eh? You think so? I don’t know the first thing about being a girl though.” Pizza paused for a beat, remembering something. “My friends and I were talking about that before back in our castle. What if we had to do disguises to sneak into places and stuff.”

He went on to talk a little more about that particular memory with Spaghetti only half-listening to him. The ginger didn’t mind it much. His voice wasn’t grating as he found most to be, perhaps even made this whole matter a lot less dreadful for the usually lofty redhead.

_Well, it’s certainly more tolerable than if I had to insist on an unwilling partner._

He gave Pizza a cursory look. Bright eyes the color of the sea, hair the color of summer wheatfields. Coupled with the boyish and innocent charm he exuded, Spaghetti could see how he appeared likeable.

Pizza wasn’t that great of a dancer. He’d slipped up a step and stepped on him, but the ginger could at least say he had heart. He was a chatty one too, but there was something genuinely sincere and bright about him that tugged at the ginger’s heartstrings.

The redhead chalked it up to the blonde being similar to his late friend. That young man… no, Master Attendant… There was something warm in that smile that reminded him of his ‘Master Attendant’.

And that it seemed, had opened the floodgates.

Like water streaming into a cup, memories of another world trickled into his mind, overlapping with the ones he has of this one. It was more gentle than the sharp pain that lanced through him earlier, but no less confusing as his mind sorted itself to make sense of what was real and not.

His steps slowed, Pizza didn’t point it out and adjusted his pace and continued to dance. Spaghetti simply let him lead and his own body followed.

For one indescribable moment, everything sounded underwater. Nothing made sense. Something told him he shouldn’t be here. Wherever ‘here’ was. He did not belong in this strange, strange world that had momentarily robbed him of his true past and present.

“Your contract,” The voice broke through the watery barrier, bringing his attention back to his partner. “Is it… a curse?”

Spaghetti snorted, gracefully recomposing himself as if nothing was amiss. “Far from it, but I would liken it to such. Rather it was an agreement I made for another. However circumstances have changed.”

“Oh so you’re also doing something for a friend? Are they around?”

On a turn, his eyes briefly fell on his fairy godmother. And Spaghetti’s mouth thinned into a line. _That one_ was more than just a familiar feeling now.

“No longer.” He answered after a beat. “As I said, circumstances have changed but my fairy godmother was insistent on seeing this through.”

“Oh…” The expression on Pizza’s face looked indecisive, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t want to offend. In the end, his curiosity won out. “What happened to him?”

_Gone. Thrown away like useless trash despite his efforts to be kind. Nothing but a stain of blood on the carpet to signify that he ever existed._

Even in this place, that fate hasn’t changed. Oh how cruel the gods really are.

“He was killed.” His tone had gone abruptly angrier, colder. Pizza could feel the way the air suddenly shifted around them and made the hair on the back of his neck stand.

_One, two._

As the muffled violins and cellos carried the music closer to its end, Spaghetti stopped midstep.

“... S-Spaghetti?”

“I think this is enough.” He said, pulling his hands away from the blonde. He moved back, putting distance between them.

Pizza’s expression immediately grew worried and he took a step forward. “Wait, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have asked.” Spaghetti was almost amused at how he thought he was to be blamed.

“Not at all. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You simply reminded me of something important I have to be doing.”

The blonde opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyebrows furrowed as the worried expression deepened. “But we didn’t finish the dance-- What do you mean you have something to do?”

“We spent enough time to make it count.” Spaghetti answered, ignoring the second question. They both turned to the approaching pair of Cassata and the fairy godmother who’ve noticed they’ve stopped.

“You’re both finished?” Cassata asked.

Spaghetti smoothed down his skirt, eyeing each one of them. “It should have satisfied the contract. I won’t be dancing any further.” Spaghetti said with a hint of steel in his voice. His hard gaze settled on his fairy godmother, daring him to contradict it.

To his credit, his godmother didn’t. “I do not see anything wrong with the duration.” The ashen brunet spoke. “I can formally say our agreement has been completed.”

“Excellent.” Spaghetti picked up his skirt and began to walk back the way he had arrived at the castle. “If you’ll excuse me then.”

His priorities have changed. This world did not have need of his ire. What happens next is still uncertain, but Spaghetti would not let that stop him.

“Spaghetti!”

The redhead paused, sighing as he half-turned to look at the Pizza coming up to him.

“Do you need something else?”

The prince stopped before him. “I want to say sorry for bringing it up.” His hands fumbled over each other in front of him while he looked apologetic. “I know it’s hard losing someone you love. But- this world isn’t all terrible, you know? There’s always something else to cherish! If you ever want someone to talk to, you can always come find me. I wouldn’t mind lending an ear.”

He shot Spaghetti a toothy grin. “Or if you want a dance partner again, I’d love to! Maybe you can help me teach Cassata too.”

“You are…” Spaghetti trailed off, feeling a mix of emotions. This much innocence and optimism…

No, he couldn’t do that to Pizza. Not now when it was not his place.

He reached out and ruffled the young man’s hair. His eyes briefly held an uncharacteristic tinge of nostalgia as he spoke the words only loud enough for him to hear. “Your lack of worldly experience will get you killed if you aren’t careful. If not you, then someone else who matters.”

Spaghetti did not answer the question that left the blonde’s mouth as he moved away. He did not look back, neither did he bid any of them goodbye.

The world had gone quiet around him.

No one followed him on his way out, nor did he meet any other soul.

He could not hear the sounds of the castle, despite being on its grand steps. With each step taken further away from it, the more a niggling feeling settled in him. Was this world trying to fight him from changing the course it paved for him? The thought made him angry.

As he stepped onto the white brick landing, a presence made itself known behind him. It was hard not to recognize it immediately, even a hundred years would not rid him of his ability to recognize that uniquely primal sense of danger that radiated off such an eccentric looking Food Soul.

“Fairy godmother.” He said by way of greeting, not turning right away.

All that tension from not knowing before had settled into calmness. Knowing who this person was, what he was capable of... Without a doubt, there was something unfinished between them that needed both of them alive.

“I have come to take you back to the mansion.”

Spaghetti stayed unmoving. “Enough of this farce. Last I recall, pretending wasn’t part of your repertoire and I don’t have the time to waste on you. I remember who you are, fairy godmother. Or should I just call you, ‘B-52 Cocktail’?”

He turned his gaze towards the floating Food Soul. B-52 did not show any visible changes in his stoic expression. However there was a minute twitch of his brow, and his hand briefly gripped his wand tighter. Ah, so he finally has the ‘robot’s’ attention. Good, he couldn’t do so in front of the two earlier.

Spaghetti nodded his head towards their surroundings. “Is this your doing?”

“... No.” B-52 answered stiffly. “There is a corruption of my memory archives up until an imperceptible amount of time ago. I suspect that whatever has tampered with it has affected you as well.”

Spaghetti hummed. B-52 never lied, a habit that the poor Food Soul likely will never grow out of. So if he had nothing to do with this, then they were victims of something or someone unknown to them. Spaghetti didn’t like not knowing what was going on, but even he knew when he hit a dead end.

“Seeing as you know nothing, I have no use for you. Go and play pretend with the rest of their lot.”

“I have to stop you.”

“Oh come on now, Cocktail-”

“You’re going down a dark path.”

Spaghetti barked out a laugh. “Imagine that! You must be blind to think I’ve only started now. And what will you do if I refuse to stand down? Kill me? Burn me with your wretched soul fire until nothing is left to even return to the _ether_?”

The sharp words made B-52 flinch. Even Spaghetti was surprised. “Oh? Has your time away from me made you soft?” He mocked openly, honing in on this sliver of advantage.

B-52 tilted his head, a gleam of emotion passing over his visible eye. “Oyster.” He spoke the name as if it were the answer to everything.

Spaghetti did not expect that. “... What of him?”

“What is Oyster’s status?”

“He’s alive and still with me, if that’s what you’re asking. At least, that is the last I remember of him.”

B-52 was silent, oddly pensive as he floated in place. Spaghetti watched as he briefly tightened his hold on his wand -weapon- and met his gaze.

“Does he know?”

Spaghetti understood the loaded bullet in that question. He could lie, but what reason did he have to lie to him?

“He underwent a trial as a final test. Tedious and rather grand with some setbacks, but it worked as I’ve intended. Suffice to say, I showed my true colors to him, and yet he chose to stay.” Spaghetti waved a dismissive hand. The details were blurry but he knew the gist of it. The phantom pain of the punch was, if nothing else, hard to forget.

“Did you hurt him?”

“Hurt him? Cocktail, if there is one thing I hold above all else, it’s to never waste the potential of a pawn so needlessly. All that effort to earn their trust and understanding what drives them is no small matter. Why, if you hadn’t been so _mindless and such an utter fool_ as to take my words at face value-” He began, but stopped. He and his old partner stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter anymore.” Spaghetti forced himself to say after a pregnant silence. And surprisingly, B-52 honored that and asked no more. But it did not stop the strange look he sent towards the redhead. Spaghetti chose not to dwell on what it could be.

In the distance, the town’s church bell tolled the twelfth hour. The ringing echoed beneath the starry heavens, and for Spaghetti, the illusion started to waver. The carriages melted like warmed and runny paintings, the bricks underneath him felt like quicksand. The sky began to swirl this way and that, making him dizzy just by looking at it. Inside, he felt that insistent pull returning with more force and urgency than before.

Whatever this world demanded of him, he must have satisfied its rules. Spaghetti could only feel immense relief that he did not need to figure out a way to leave on his own.

He turned to see B-52 fading into the surroundings as his vision blurred, mouthing something he could not make out except for one word.

_‘Regret’_

Perhaps it had been a question directed at him.

Spaghetti hoped that the smug, condescending smirk on his face was plain as day to the Food Soul as he could no longer see or feel his face. He also hoped that his parting words had been duly received by its recipient, as he could no longer hear himself as he fell into light and rose into darkness.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


It felt like waking from a long bittersweet dream.

  
  


The only reason he did not believe it to be merely a dream was waking up amongst his still slumbering companions, and as far as his eyes could see, the rest of the city seemed to have been affected.

That had been a few days ago.

The Creation Festival came and went without too much trouble after that. The incident was quietly swept under the rug by the hosting kingdom and the powers that be, this being a tactic he was quite familiar with.

While he had wanted to know who was responsible for such an inconvenience, he found that no one really knew where it originated. He wasn’t going to spend what resources they had to chase after something that was ultimately meaningless to his plans.

Besides, he and his affected companions made it out alive. It was a better consolation than being met with unfortunate circumstances on a trip meant for recreation.

As with all things transient, the celebrations come to an end. The festivities tapered off into the morning of their last day, with him uncharacteristically lagging behind everyone else as they made their way to the market.

Try as he might, the incident with that strange world had rekindled something in him. Something he had forgotten, or perhaps had ignored for a long time. If he could put a name to it, he would probably call it melancholy. But melancholy for what? For whom? He isn’t so sure.

“Cassata, look! They’re still selling those unicorn candy cones!”

A flash of yellow -the color of wheat fields in summer- half hidden under a dark wide brim hat. His eyes gazed upon the profile of that smiling face across the street, the young man with that boyish charm held the hand of a mousey eared girl, pointing to a stall with his other hand.

The memory of the dance was blotchy at best. But he remembered it as a whole, and the blonde who had willingly extended his hand to dance with him. A blonde who, for the short time he had met and known him, had struck a chord in his cold heart. The little prince who now made this melancholy feel stronger.

Oh how the universe has a strange sense of humor to have him cast a second glance at the puppy chasing after the snake.

“Are you feeling alright, Spaghetti? Should we postpone the return trip to tomorrow?”

Spaghetti tore his eyes away from the figure, his gaze settling on his right hand woman looking at him with exasperation veiling her concern.

A delicate brow arched as he smirked, “Heh, don’t patronize me, Borscht. Weren’t you the one who insisted we keep to the schedule? Or perhaps something caught your eye and you desire it?”

“Don’t be so confident I’d let you spoil me like your ‘daughter’.”

Spaghetti laughed. “Haven’t I, already?”

They continued walking. He dared not to look back, pushing the thought of the little prince into the back of his mind.

He never realized that as he had looked away, a pair of eyes the color of the sea turned to stare at him, bedazzled by the strangely familiar red hair cut shorter than the blonde had remembered it to be. But those eyes turned away soon after, the traveling prince distracted by something his friends had said.

In the end, they were two strangers who met for the briefest of moments. The distance between their backs grew longer, their paths crossing but never intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small piece of literature that started around the time of the Global release of the Croissant Wonderland event, now finally completed. Thank you for coming around to read my silly little indulgence and hope you've enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed and suffered writing for it to come to life.
> 
> Until my next one, take care everyone!


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